Byzantine Gold (21 page)

Omar had his feet propped up on the empty fourth chair. All were laughing and drinking beer when Darav stepped into the patio area.

“Diver Darav, good of you to come,” Omar said and pushed the chair he’d been resting his feet on toward Darav with his foot. “Sit, have a beer with your compatriots.”

Omar snapped his fingers. A bored looking girl sitting on a stool next to a glass-front cooler glanced up from her magazine.

“Two more,” Omar said.

She flipped through a couple more pages of the magazine before fishing two bottles of beer from the cooler and bringing them to the table.

Omar handed one to Darav. Opening the other, he took a deep swig.

Darav eyed Goker and Turgay, powerful supporters of Omar’s. He sat, turning his attention to Omar. “What are you doing here and where are you staying? How dare you use precious funds for this unwelcome visit?”

“You needn’t worry about money. The
orphan’s
charity in Hakkari funneled us the cash we required. As to where we are staying,” he shot Goker and Turgay a lopsided smirk, then turned back to Darav, “We acquired a derelict fishing boat off Kyrenia.”

“You mean you stole a boat.”

Omar shrugged. “The point is we are here.”

“Why?”

“It has been weeks since we’ve had word from you. You cannot tell us that nothing of value has been found. We ask you why the delay in the raid?”

“I told you we recovered a chest of gold religious artifacts and several pieces of valuable jewelry.”

Omar laughed aloud, drops of beer spraying into the air. “Artifacts, such a grand word,” he said to Goker and Turgay, “Listen to him, suddenly Darav is the big archaeologist.”

“Where are Abdullah and Mustafa?”

“Things have changed in your absence. We voted. They are no longer part of the raid. We’ve chosen ourselves. That’s not all we voted on. You are not our leader anymore. I am. And I have decided not to wait for you to give us permission when you see fit.”

The dark thought his friends might not be alive sent a shock wave through his system. What madness had occurred? Omar was riding high on his newfound power. He’d like nothing better to show himself for the leader he always alleged he was.

“It is too soon to act. I am on-site. I alone know when the time is right.”

“There’s been nothing since this chest of religious rubbish. We’ve—” he looked to Goker and Turgay who gave him slight nods of support, “waited long enough. We take what you’ve got, sell it to your Russian, and go back to camp. No more wasted time on this foolish dream of yours.”

“Gold coins are scattered along the seafloor. We begin to collect those tomorrow. They have value and I’m sure we’ll find more relics of worth. The dive season is not over. We wait.”

“A few paltry coins,” he sneered, spitting out the word coins like he had knowledge of their worth. “No. We will not wait that long. You do not have final say. I do. I say we’ll give you a few weeks, then we raid the camp, whether you are with us or against us.”

Message received. The threat was clear. Omar had never been a man to mince words. Darav was expendable. He’d live as long as it was convenient for Omar. To argue further with him served little purpose. Whatever happened at their Qandil hideout, clearly it emboldened Omar. Reasoning with him was useless. Fear of the man won over Darav’s hatred. If they survived the raid, the first chance he had, he’d kill Omar, maybe Goker and Turgay too, just to make a point. But, for now, he’d agree with Omar’s wishes.

“I’ll need lead-in time,” Darav said. “This must be well planned. Mr. Chernikovich has agreed to supply us with a getaway boat. We’ll meet with him at a pre-designated location of his choice. Out of Cyprus waters. Getting from the camp to the getaway boat is the main challenge. If we’re sloppy, we’ll be caught or killed.”

“We’ll stay in touch.”

“It’s better if I contact you,” Darav said, striving to exercise a fractional amount of control. “With diving and all, I might not have the time to meet when you want.”

“Find the time.”

Chapter Forty-Three

Atakan and Iskender sat a corner table in the dining room discussing the next step in their investigation of Nassor. They instantly ceased their talk when Saska plopped down next to Atakan. She held a stack of newspaper articles she’d printed out.

“I’ve been looking for you both. I’d like to ask you about the ‘Kurdish Problem,’” she said and laid the printouts on the table in front of Atakan.

“The ‘Kurdish Problem?’” Atakan repeated, skimming the headlines of the articles she’d brought.

“Yes. I’d like your opinion on how your government is handling the situation. I’d like your opinion too,” she said with an ingratiating smile that used to charm him and with a glance to Iskender.

“Is the source of your terminology the paper?”

“One of them. I’ve been reading through archived stories in the Hurriyet Daily News. I’ve seen the situation referenced this way in several articles.”

Now why would a journalist who specialized in archaeological stories be suddenly interested in the politics of his country? And, why this issue? 

“I have no opinion. I am not privy to the intentions of parliament or the negotiations by government officials regarding any issues before them.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, recognizing the evasion for what it was and looked to Iskender.

“Sorry, I cannot give an opinion either,” he added with a faint smile, staring down her skeptical look.

“You don’t have to be involved in the insider talks to have an opinion,” she said, turning back to Atakan.

“Why are you so interested in the internal workings of my country? As I understand it, your congress has unresolved...” he started to say
problems
and then reconsidered, “matters with ongoing debate. Perhaps, as a journalist, you are better served to address those matters before concerning yourself in ours.”

Saska stiffened at the mention of the contentious American Congress. “Point taken. Maybe I will, down the road. So, bottom line, you’re refusing to make any statement regarding my question,” she said with an almost imperceptible jut of her chin. “Why? Don’t you trust me?”

They’d been lovers long enough for Atakan to know the subtle signs of her moods. He’d memorized them early in their relationship. Looking at her now, he saw how truly different they were and wondered what had kept them together for those few months. This woman he once cared for expected him, the on-site Ministry rep., to freely discuss the delicate and somewhat controversial political issue, within earshot of team members sitting nearby. That she expected this after their time together showed how little she understood him. The realization didn’t hurt, but it disappointed. He wasn’t as easy to manipulate as she apparently thought. Nor was he so stupid as to not recognize she was motivated by some personal agenda.

“I answered. I said I have no opinion. But, I am curious. What made you research this topic to begin with? It’s far afield from your normal subject matter.”

“Unlike you, I have no problem being forthright,” she said behind a thin smile in a tone that challenged him to be as honest as she was. “Nassor and I were talking about this and that. We touched on the political differences here in Cyprus between the north and south. The conversation moved from the Greek influence in the south to the Turkish influence here in the north. From there it moved to the government of Turkey. He brought up the ‘Kurdish Problem.’”

Atakan and Iskender exchanged a quick suspicious glance.

“What is his stance on the matter?” Iskender asked casually and took a sip of tea.

“He’d like to see a region of Turkey set aside and establishment of an independent Kurdistan.” Saska gathered her articles into a stack. “He made a reasonable argument in favor of the idea. That’s why I wanted your opinions.”

“I don’t suppose he mentioned a reasonable solution to what happens to the Turkish people who have lived in this dispensable region for generations. What suggestion does he offer for the families who have businesses and friends and relatives there who might wind up displaced by this new country’s government?”

“No, the discussion didn’t get into the details.”

“Of course not,” Atakan said in a gentle tone aching to discuss with Iskender this new information about Nassor. It was a radical view held by the extreme wing of the PKK.

Atakan had several Kurdish friends. Some worked in Istanbul in government positions and private businesses. They’d been to his home for dinner and he to theirs many times. Most of his Kurd friends worked in the tourist industry near famous archaeology sites where Atakan had been assigned. Nassor’s view wasn’t theirs.

“I have to go,” Saska said, standing. All signs of testiness gone, she pleasantly asked, “Are you going to Ada’s later? I’d love to meet for a drink. I promise no political questions.”

“We’ll see you there.”

“What an odd conversation for Nassor to have with Saska,” Iskender said after she left.

“Especially for an Egyptian, I can understand it if he was Iraqi or Iranian, considering their Kurdish settlements.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Iskender asked.

Atakan nodded. He knew what was going through Iskender’s mind because it was going through his.

“While he’s on his afternoon dive let’s go through his things. I’m almost positive he slipped and used Kurmanji in the lab one day. Charlotte has always maintained he didn’t talk like an archaeologist. We need to find out who this guy really is. He’s not Nassor Jafari.

“Come, we need to find Charlotte,” Atakan said.

They found Charlotte in the women’s quarters getting ready for her afternoon dive.

“Charlotte,” Atakan called and politely stood to the side of the screen door in case she wasn’t alone. 

She came out with her backpack ready to meet the shuttle to the Suraya. “Hi, what’s up?” she asked, smiling at him and Iskender.

Atakan took her backpack and walked her to an area where they wouldn’t be overheard. “We need your help.”

“Okay.”

“Take an extra bottle of water with you. When you’re finished with your dive, offer the extra bottle to Nassor.”

“Sure, but we all drink like fish after diving. He’s probably bringing his own bottle.”

“Give him your extra bottle first. Handle it by the screw top. When he’s done, smile and take the empty from him and store it in your backpack.”

Her eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Oh, you want his prints. Interesting.”

She leaned in and asked in a low conspiratorial voice, “You’re worried he isn’t who he says he is?”

“Yes, but more important, I’m worried about what he is.”

Chapter Forty-Four

Charlotte lay on her cot, reading and killing time before her afternoon dive. Atakan and Iskender had gone off to lift Nassor’s prints from the bottle she gave them. Her cell rang just as she started to doze off. She sat up, set the book to the side, and grabbed her phone from the dresser next to the bed.

“Casey, what the hell is going on?”

She jerked the phone from her ear, then tentatively brought it back. “Hi Nick, how are you? I’m fine. Thank you for asking—”

“Yeah, yeah, forget the hellos. I want to know what the hell is up with you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, and stop yelling.”

“I got a letter from a museum asking questions about you. They said you listed me as a reference for a job. Did you and Atakan break up?”

“No.”

“Then, why the job change?”

“I need to leave here. I’m not sure for how long and I have to work. I applied to six museums I thought I’d like to work for.”

“What do you mean you need to leave?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t tell
me
?”

“Trust me, it’s not something I want to do, but it’s necessary.”

She expected and got Nick’s heavy, impatient sigh. It was his
I hate the games woman play
sigh.

“What does Atakan have to say about all this?”

“He doesn’t know, yet.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No. I’ll only tell him if I get a job offer. Otherwise, he doesn’t need to know.”

“You gotta tell him. I’m serious Case. You can’t keep this from him. If you get an offer, what are you going to do? Just pack up and leave...tell him...see you, I’ll be back sometime. That’s wrong.”

“I can’t. He’ll want to know why, and I can’t say why.”

“You owe him an explanation. He deserves better from you.”

Nick wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know, hadn’t agonized over time and time again. Yes, Atakan would see this as an awful betrayal. But once the business with Tischenko was settled, she’d return. She’d explain she did what she had to for his sake. She’d still keep his mother’s request out of it. Once she returned, she didn’t need to fan the flames of Nuray’s dislike of her by ratting her out to Atakan.

“Casey? Are you there?”

“Yes.”

“Talk to me, there’s nothing you can’t tell me. What’s behind this nonsense?”

“I told you. I can’t say.”

“God damn it, what am I supposed to do knowing what you’re planning? Atakan and I are friends. You’ve put me in a terrible position. He’d expect me to tell him the truth. I’d expect the same from him if the positions were reversed. What do I do? Betray you or him?”

“I’m sorry. It’s not my intention to ruin your friendship or to hurt Atakan.”

“I love you, you know that, but I think what you’re doing is inexcusable. I’ll give you twenty-four hours. Tell him or I will.” Nick hung up.